


Things There Might Be Pictures Of

by andyouknowitis



Series: Things There Might Be Pictures Of [11]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: All The Love, Domestic Fluff, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, Much Married, Styles-Tomlinsons, dads being dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 01:46:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15062366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andyouknowitis/pseuds/andyouknowitis
Summary: September 17th 2037George Styles-Tomlinson is fourteen. And people are throwing tings at his boy.Harry pressed another kiss to his cheek just because he could, a palm lingering on the back of Louis' neck, playing softly with the ends of his hair there.Louis made a poor attempt at hiding a smile, but leaned into his touch nonetheless. “Alright, soft lad. Enough of that.”Harry hummed in response. He kept his hand precisely where it was and moved in to touch their foreheads together. “Never enough.”Louis huffed out a laugh. “You're a cheesy fucker. You know that?” He inclined his head slightly as a gesture to the none too subtle attention they were drawing to themselves. “You're doing wonders for our reputation here.”Harry took that as the invitation it was and nipped lightly at his left ear, voice a soft whisper. “We earned it.”





	Things There Might Be Pictures Of

_September 17_ _th_ _2037_

“And the Emmy goes to...”

Three Styles-Tomlinsons held their respective breaths. The moment was drawn out like honey on a spoon. Exhalation and, indeed, exultation came a moment later (although George in his best mood would have argued an eternity in Doctor years) when three small words were almost drown out by their respective whoops at the viewing screen.

“...Dashiell Hamilton, _Toby._ ”

They watched as the camera closed in on Dash, _their_ Dash, the freshly minted fifteen year old, as he hugged his parents and made his way up to the podium. Everyone clapped wildly as the award was placed into his hands. One of the youngest ever Outstanding Lead Actor in a Limited Series or Movie nominees, (and now winners). Dash, who had auditioned for a lark when an open call went out at their school, looking for elven like, blond haired kids, a brash but articulate ten year old, impressive in his insouciance, coupled with a captivating smile, and a more than decent singing voice. Some screen tests, and an end of term later, and he had been whisked away to Pinewood for a summer of photo shoots (that red and white onesie shot was now iconic), costume fittings (befitting a Goblin Prince) and wire and movement training (dance, magic dance indeed).

To say he had become something of a media darling would be the understatement of the decade. The already successful Hamilton Hotels chain had naturally negotiated a deal for a _Toby_ tie-in room (what was the point of running fandom themed hotels after all if the family couldn't have some fun with it?) which Dash himself had opened with great fanfare. The room was booked out for the next eighteen months in every location. The Hamiltons had a hit on their hands, and a son who took to fame effortlessly, even though, like everything else, there had been a cost. While his parents had ensured that primary filming being in the U.K was a given, (which mercifully had meant shorter shoots at a mere twelve episodes per season) outside promo tours and endorsements ate into the little free time he had left. They sat and talked through all his options with him, and ultimately anything he decided to do was always his decision (they had sanctions in place so that the more nefarious suggestions never reached him to begin with), but lately it had been getting harder and harder to push back at the various requests and opinion pieces on just how far his star could rise.

Fresh off filming the third series — with every designer clamouring to dress him, every outlet there was scrabbling for interviews, editorials and guest spots, with momentum building — his days at school had dwindled to practically nothing as he relied on a full time personal tutor on set, to meet the ever growing demands on his time. One tie-in TV film later and his time was at an absolute premium. One of his parents always travelled with him and ensured he was home for various family holidays, that had been non-negotiable, but as the show and fanbase grew, his time at home grew shorter.

And now, here he was, nominations galore within the TV industry, and an award winner. Dashiell Scorbus Hamilton had the veritable world at his feet.

While only his parents were able to attend the actual ceremony with him, various friends were gathered in the screening room of a nearby private club to watch the show. Cheers and exclamations filled the room now, as Dash finished his speech with a final thanks 'to the power of voodoo.'

Xara, the proverbial sixteen going on seventeen and very much over it, just huffed at the screen with a mutter, “Merde, il va se prendre la grosse tête s'il continue comme ça.”

“Non, ça n'arrivera pas,” Conor murmured back competently (if with the hint of Ireland in his voice mangling his attempt at a decent French accent.)

Xara smirked, “T'as raison, il a déja la grosse tête.”

George sighed loudly at them both. “I told you to stop doing that. At least when I'm around and can't understand a word you're saying. You're both too fast.”

Xara flicked up an eyebrow. “Well maybe if you'd made the effort like Conor did and learned a little when you were at my house during the holidays then you'd understand, wouldn't you?”

George stuck his tongue out, eyes gleaming “Why would I do that when I have my very own Universal Translator in you?”

Xara let him off with a good natured eye roll. For now at least.

*

George looked down at his phone.

Still nothing. He sighed. But then that was hardly new these days. So, Dash didn't show up right away at their after party for him. That was okay. He'd won, after all, which meant more time in the press room afterwards and extra photocalls and everything. And he'd certainly have to show his face for sure at some of the bigger industry parties. Part of the job, his Dads always said.

Still.

He'd be there.

Right?

*

Harry eyed the steady stream of faces making their way back and forth through the archway of the private club rooms they'd rented out. Not a big party by some of their past standards, and certainly nothing like the scale of one of Zayn's extravaganzas, but enough that some of those faces were practising a studied indifference as one well-known name or another walked through the door. He watched one of those names give Louis a warm hug, while his son (already making name for himself a shoe designer of some note Harry recalled) make his way to the group idling near the DJ booth. Much good it would do them. Akira didn't do requests. Except for Louis. But then Louis was most people's exception.

Said exception was heading his way right now. “What you grinning about, Styles?”

Harry took the opportunity to smooth his hands over his husband's shoulders and flick some imaginary lint off the velvet lapel of the burgundy suit adorning his spouse. “Exceptions.” He pressed a soft kiss to his nose, smile soft. “You.”

It still thrilled Harry to see the little flush and flare of love, bashfulness, and pride (like he couldn't quite believe he got to have this) that danced across Louis’ face whenever they engaged in any form of PDA, even after all these years. Some scars cast a long shadow, and every moment like this was like a soft press of lips to well worn skin. Harry pressed another kiss to his cheek just because he could, a palm lingering on the back of Louis' neck, playing softly with the ends of his hair there.

Louis made a poor attempt at hiding a smile, but leaned into his touch nonetheless. “Alright, soft lad. Enough of that.”

Harry hummed in response. He kept his hand precisely where it was and moved in to touch their foreheads together. “Never enough.”

Louis huffed out a laugh. “You're a cheesy fucker. You know that?” He inclined his head slightly as a gesture to the none too subtle attention they were drawing to themselves. “You're doing wonders for our reputation here.”

Harry took that as the invitation it was and nipped lightly at his left ear, voice a soft whisper. “We earned it.”

If Louis actually felt his forty-five year old knees weaken a bit at that (treacherous bastards), then he showed no sign other than a light tap to Harry's chest which clearly said _later_ and very definitely said _behave._

Still, Louis kept his hand where it was as Harry dropped his to glance around, his brow furrowing as he took in the crowd. “You seen George in the last half hour?”

Louis scanned the mass of people himself. “No, actually, now that you mention it. Was he not with Conor and Xara?”

Harry shook his head. “You know how Conor's not much for these things. He sloped off to the kids suite to use the VR room about an hour ago when it started getting crowded. I got Xara to stay with him so he wouldn't be by himself. Not that he didn't try and argue the point with me, thirteen going on eighty, that one.”

Louis frowned. “Brady's still on the door yeah?”

Harry nodded in affirmation seeing where his husband's mind was going. “Mmmhmm.” He flicked a glance at his watch before peering into the mass of bodies filling the dance floor. “Brady knows better than to let any of the kids try and wander off without giving us a heads up first.”

Louis hummed lightly in agreement as he took another scan of the room himself. “Mmmm. Still.”

Harry tapped his watch, “Hang on a mo'.”

Conor's mildly distracted face filled the small screen seconds later. “Uncle Harry?”

Harry nodded as he heard the muffled sounds of a game in the background. “Hey Conor, is George with you and Xar?”

The sound muted entirely as Xara's face joined Conor's on the screen. “Nada. Just us two in here still. Haven't seen him since earlier. He was at the mocktail stand thing. Said he wanted to try that Fiery Fuzzball concoction if I recollect correctly-”

Conor made a face at that as he interjected. “Yeuch. But yeah that and he was talking to Bailey and Zach then too, because I heard Bailey try and get Zac-”

Conor let out a muffled squeak before Xara's face filled the screen entirely. “Zachary's an adult who knows better than to let Bailey harangue him into anything so-”

“Xara is just jealous because Zach designed those boots for Dash that everyone wants. Although I think the boots aren't all Xara wants so...” Conor's disembodied voice insisted.

Xara's face grew mutinous. “Shut up, Conor.”

“Well, if the boot fits.” Louis' voice, this time laced with barely contained laughter.

Xara blinked slowly. Then smiled in way that was faintly feral. “Sorry, Uncle Harry, I have a murder to attend to. Talk to you later.”

Harry who had heard it all before, if not this exact variation, nodded. “Thank you, mini detectives. I'm sure he's not too far.” He grinned. “You two stay put, alright? Can't lose my two best investigators. And, if there has to be murder, just clean up the walls afterwards.”

Xara merely nodded before signing off just as a shriek of “NOT MY SHEARS!” exploded over the line before things went silent.

Harry stared at the screen on his wrist perplexed. “Shears?”

Louis chuckled. “I'm gonna hazard a guess those fancy ones Zayn got him at Christmas. The ones from that old fancy gardener who knew someone, who knew someone that worked landscape art at Versailles, or something.”

Harry's eyebrows raised. “Versailles?”

Louis grinned. “You know Zayn. Doesn't do things by halves. He has a soft spot for Conor and whatever he managed to graft for him in that hothouse of his over the holidays.”

Harry gave a small shrug. “I guess Xara has contingency plans to keep him in line then. A saboteur on speed dial maybe? Here, try saying 'shears saboteur' three times fast.”

Louis hummed out a laugh. “Contingencies for all of them I imagine. No halves there either.” He nudged Harry. “I wonder what Xar has on George then?” Another hum. “Or Dash for that matter. Not that it would be hard to find something jarring between them two. They fight so much as it is.”

Harry shrugged with a wry grin of his own. “A mystery for another day.” He took another glance around, coming up empty. “Right now we need to figure out where the hell our son got to. And speaking of-” He dropped his voice a notch. “Where the fuck _is_ Dash anyway? The Hamiltons VM'd me earlier saying they'd be here once he got done with press and all that jazz. It's coming up almost one. I thought he'd be well done now.”

Louis gave a shrug of his own. “Studio parties, maybe still? You know how they get when you win, everyone wants the handshake and the selfie. Or maybe his PR had him run through a few spots. That or that manager of his...”

Harry made a face. “Yeah, I don't like him.”

Louis hummed in agreement. “I know. I mean he's good at his job. But-

“He's a wanker.”

Louis could only agree. He shrugged nonetheless because they'd all been there. “Well, he did get Dash the cover of American _Vogue_ at fourteen, so I suppose you put up with some things.”

Harry was unmoved as he fiddled with his watch. “A massive one.”

Louis wrinkled his nose. “Don't need that image in me head, ta.”

Harry sighed and held up the screen. “Speaking of.”

Louis peered at the screen at the clip that was surely about to go viral, if it hadn't already, he noted, eying the trending tags (#dancemagicdance) that were rising. Said footage showed a bright eyed Dash (his natural platinum blond hair unmissable), dancing on a bar at a party with Olympia Ohadian, as _Starman_ played in the background, looking for all it was worth like he didn't have a care in the world.

Louis added his own sigh to Harry's. “I see. _”_

Harry gave a sharp tap and let the screen go dark. “Yeah, me an' all.”

By silent agreement they let the party run its course over the next half hour, quietly having security run checks on each floor.

Still no George.

*

The last fifteen minutes ran by painfully slowly as it became increasingly clear that their son simply wasn't in the building anymore. The infamous roof garden and every other conceivable space had been checked twice over, coming up empty. Harry ordered a car to take Xara and Conor home to Niall's, accompanied by their most trusted driver, Marlo. Niall was currently away on the Canadian part of his North American tour, but Conor’s mum was at their Los Feliz house with the twins and more than able to accommodate the necessary change in plans.

Harry's hands gripped his phone, his knuckles painfully white, cheekbones stark. “Lou...Lou maybe we should call someone, it's been too long.”

Louis nodded in affirmation, his mind running along a similar track that quite frankly he fought going down. His thumbprint flickered between the button for their chief of security and 911.

_What was quicker, better, who could help, help, where do they start, please, please let him be alright, that's our baby, please._

He blinked at the shadow that cast across his screen, the large man coming to a sudden halt as if his feet hadn't quite caught up with him yet.

Louis blindly reached for Harry's hand. Gripped his fingers. _So cold._

He swallowed. “Brady?”

“Sir, I-”

Louis frowned. He never called him sir. _Oh, fuck no, no please._

“Louis...he..I'm so sorry. We've never had-”

Harry's voice snapped out sharp and cold. “Just say it.”

Brady nodded rapidly. “I liaised with the in-house team and we just noticed a glitch around the first floor fire doors. I'm not sure how, we're looking into it, but he somehow by-passed and looped the in-house security cam there, and we just now realised and-”

Louis spoke. “How long?”

Brady looked pained. “About an hour ago.”

_No._

Brady looked hesitant. “Sir...Louis.” He amended. “He has GPS off on his phone, we checked that immediately. And I've checked trace for cards and there's nothing coming up yet. But I remembered a while back, you said your watches were always on, even through any upgrades, and if we could find his signal and triangula-”

Louis was already tapping on his wrist unit, shades of that day long ago when he'd first shown George how they worked, and what buttons to press if he ever needed help. And that it was never, ever to be left behind. Or switched off. No matter what. It had been so long since they'd had to even think of using them, that he'd all but forgotten. 

He held his wrist out without preamble so Brady could link it into security.

_No matter what._

*

Thirty-six tense minutes later found them skidding to a halt barely minutes away from their LA home in Carbon Beach. If a few lights were ran on the way, then the tickets could be dealt with later. A brief walk (okay, run) along the shore front had them all but tripping over feet and sand in their haste to reach their son. They both gathered him close in a mess of muddled hug, as they clutched on to each other, George caught between them.

Their son who seemed barely able to acknowledge their presence.

George didn't even look them in the eye after a cursory glance in their direction. He shrugged off their hands and continued to gaze out at the waves lapping quietly on the sand some metres away, knees tucked up against the coolness of the night air. “Found me, then,” he said listlessly.

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again, face strained, as he sat back on his heels.“What? George, of course we found you. The whole team's been searching since the moment we realised. We've just been-” He broke off and took a breath. “Have you any idea what just happened? We didn't know...we...we had to-”

George shrugged with studied indifference as he cut him off. “Took you long enough.”

Louis' mouth fell open. “Oi. Do you have any idea how worried we were?!”

George spared him a glance then before shrugging. “Seemed like you were both having fun at the party when I last saw you. Seems like everyone was having fun tonight. I wasn't. So I left.”

Harry's eyes widened, voice perplexed. “You just-” He broke off and shook his head, voice rising. “You don't just walk out of a private club in West Hollywood after bloody _midnight_ ON YOUR OWN!”

Louis brought a hand to his mouth, shifting back on his heels until he was standing, his hands then finding his hips. He couldn't pace because of _this stupid fucking sand everywhere_ , so he settled for scuffing at it as he added his voice to Harry's. “Do you hear yourself? We've been looking everywhere.”

George made an attempt at staring him down before looking down with a muttered, “Not hard enough, then, really.”

Louis opened his mouth again, but Harry held up a hand to silence him. Voice quieter this time. “George, what's wrong? Are you-” He broke off, his voice distressed. “Oh, God.” He ran fractious fingers through his hair, his voice a whisper now. “Did anyone..did someon-”

George's face looked thunderous as he cut in, voice cold. “Why is it _me_ there's something wrong with? Ever think it might not be me?”

Harry looked perplexed, brow furrowing. “What? I didn't mean it like that, it's just-” He paused to gather himself. Took a breath. “It's just you really shouldn't have gone off without telling us, with no security, not a word to anyone. You know that, I know you do.” He shook his head, pushing back his hair, as he blew out a harried breath. “We were this close to calling the police. If Brady hadn't realised we'd-”

George rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well that's stupid. And so's Brady.”

“George!” Harry admonished.

Anger flared, spilling across George's all too young face, laced with some all too painful words. “What? I just wish everybody would fuck right off! You and all!”

Harry tried to hide his flinch. His face white and stark beneath the spill of low lighting from the soft faux fire lamps running along the pathway behind them.

_Okay._

“Okay,” he said as he took a cleansing breath and sank to his knees on the sand next to George, who was now huddled up tight, fingers curled around his knees.

_He looks so small._

Harry reached out to lay his fingers across their son's. “Okay, sweetheart, listen to me. It's alright to be upset because of what's happened with Dash, but I ju-”

George was unmoving. “I sai-”

Louis held up a finger and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nah-ah. Stop that right now. I mean it. Don't dig yourself deeper, kid. You apologise to your father _right now._ He's just worried about you. We both are. Now tell us what's really going on.”

_Silence._

Louis sighed. “Alright, simpler question. How did you get outside? Past security, I mean. They said something about the camera?”

George stared at the horizon. “Doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me!” Louis exploded. “You're fourteen years old. And even then only by a couple of months. Do you know how worried we were? Do you even have any idea what that's lik-” Louis broke off, verklempt.

George deigned to look up at this, at least. “I'm not a child.”

_Said their child. Looking never more like a child, hunched over his knees, picking at the ripped strands of his cargo trousers, like the child he was._

It was Harry's turn to sigh. “You're not an adult yet either. And I hate saying this because I sound like my own mum here, but if you don't act like one then it's hard for us to trust you and treat you like one sometimes.”

Louis' eyes met Harry's before he crouched down beside George again, voice quiet as he reached the sand. “It matters to us, George. If we can't trust our security measures to keep things safe as they should be, to keep _you_ safe, then-”

George scoffed at that. “Then what? Who would come after me, anyway? Nobody wants me.”

Louis looked confused. “What?”

George shrugged. “Yeah well, no one cares.”

Harry shared a confused glance with Louis. “Is that what this is about? You think no one cares about you?”

George scuffed the sand with his foot, sarcasm high, his voice a muddle of mutters. “Well s'true. Everyone thinks Xara's a genius....leaving Lycee early… stupid Sorbonne....stupid France....designers everywhere...Xara this..Xara that...oh, you're Styles-Tomlinson ...like those ones...yeah those...do you know Xara...yes of bloody course...Conor n'gardens...fancy horticulture place want him...that mid misty flower thing..and.speaking stupid French...and..and-”

Louis clicked his tongue in sympathy and laid a soft hand on George's shoulder. “And Dash is away a lot now. I know.”

George shrugged his hand off. “I didn't even...he can do what he wants. I don't care.”

Harry eyed him carefully. “It's okay to miss him, George.”

“Whatever. He can piss off to France as well, seeing as it's so great.”

Louis lifted his chin. “So, no France next summer is what you're saying?”

“What I'm saying is everyone knows what they're doing but me!” George's words erupted, hot against the chill that seemed to lace his skin.

Harry's eyes widened. “George, you're _fourteen_. You don't have to know. Isn't that's half the fun?” Harry's eyebrows drew together. “I mean. Is something else wrong? You're doing well at school, and Ed was saying the other day that you're coming along great on the guitar. We got the new camera you wanted for your birthday. I thought we were having fun with that when you came with me to the studio?”

Another shrug. “Mmmhf.”

Louis tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “George.”

George pushed himself up off the sand, stumbling in thought and movement as he scrambled to get up. “Why can't you both just leave me alone? Why do you even care?!”

It was Louis' turn to stand now, as his voice also rose. “Because you scared the bollocking life out of us!” He shook his head. “Jesus Christ, kiddo. It's after two in the morning and we had to track you down to the bloody beach in the middle of the night. Anything could have happened!”

George shook his head. “Nothing happened. I...I just-”. His face suddenly crumpled, and he gasped as if horrified at the treacherous wobble in his voice.

Louis didn't hesitate and gathered him into his arms, his eyes catching Harry's, as he stood, steadying them both, as he patted George's back. “Alright, son, let it out, there we go.”

George's words and breaths were coming in fits and starts. Harry laid a hand on his lower back as Louis rubbed George's shoulder softly, waiting for him to speak. “It's ..it's just...” His voice landed on a crack, angst spilling through the pain there hungrily. “And just school is..it's, it's harder since Xara’s done now with Lycee already and can't come for cross study prep at our school anymore. I know it's stupid, and it's not just that, but s’when it started.” He sniffed. “I just....nobody used to mess with us, like the three of us, y'know? But especially when Xar was with us, us four, and now s'different. And some of them...a couple of them, they kept saying stupid shit about Dash too, all the time, and I've ignored it mostly, and just given them some back. But then they started this term on Conor as well. I told them to, to eff off, and they've left him alone now, well they say they will, as long as I pretend to be friendly with them.” Another sniff. “Stupid by association thing. But then one of them started demanding I give them info, like stories about Dash. They wanted some easy money, or attention, I think. And I wouldn't. I could never. I couldn't do that.”

A pause then. Louis could feel the tension in George's shoulders, as he took another shuddering breath, then another, almost if if deciding whether he should keep speaking.

Louis and Harry both watched as George swallowed, before continuing, voice dry and sharp against the cooler night air. “And now...now he's threatened to leak some stuff to the press. Says it doesn't even matter if it's true and that becaus-”. He broke off with another small head shake.

Louis voice was a quiet murmur. “George, love, you can tell us anything. Anything at all.”

_Please. Please trust us to look after you._

George's words tumbled out on a rush of expelled breath. “Jared, from school, he said...he said that because you're my parents people will read it anyway and that everyone....everyone will believe it.” He looked at the ground now. “'Cause everyone knew that Dad...that he....that he fucked anyone who moved.” The last words spilled out like acid, bitter against his tongue. “And he said he'd be trying to score that himself soon. That maybe...maybe he finally liked them young these days.”

Harry blinked imperceptibly, jaw tightening, a hitch in his breathing the only sign of response to the words falling around them like splinters. The silence was painful in those few seconds, and Louis could see the tremble in Harry's right hand as he reached out towards George's arm, before making to withdraw, as if thinking better of it.

Louis shook his head minutely. _Not on my watch. Not while I'm around._ Louis gripped his hand and laid his own over it. Warm and steady against their son's skin. After a moment Harry took a breath and nodded for George to continue.

George lifted his chin, trying to ease the words out. “I wanted to hurt him. I've never wanted to. I've never felt like that. Ever. I hate it. But he just...he just kept saying all these _things._ I didn't know what to do.” He swiped a hand across his cheek, a few tears smearing there. “And tonight I thought maybe it would be like old times, just for a few hours, you know, just the four of us together, and it just...it wasn't. And Dash never even...well.” George shook his head sadly. “Nothing's the same anymore.”

They were all silent for a heartbeat. Words and wounds sinking in.

Louis extracted one of his arms to encompass Harry as well as George, drawing them both close for a much needed hug. Just holding on. Just for a few moments, to try and right their world again.

Louis drew back and ran a weary hand over George's hair. “How long have you been bottling this up?”

The unspoken _why didn't you tell us_ lingered in the air. Sadly Louis thought he knew exactly why. He'd been that child once upon a time, trying to protect his family from a tide he couldn't hold back on his own before he learned that he didn't have to.

George cleared his throat. “Just a few weeks. Couple of months I mean, like the end of last term, but s’mostly since school started back.” He shrugged. “I really thought it was just the usual petty, small shit and I could handle it.” He lifted his chin. “But it's just the two of us now and well, it's Conor.” His eyes were fierce with determination. “I know he can handle himself, I do. But...he's just..he's _so_ good. He shouldn't have to hear that shit. Not yet. He's _Conor._ He makes all of us so much better and if anyone tried to hurt him I'd just...all of us always said..we'd just...” George shook his head decisively. “I couldn't let that happen. I just couldn't.”

Louis nodded. “We're going to handle this. Zero tolerance means just that, and they'll be dealt with. All of them. I promise you.” He exchanged a silent glance with Harry over George's head that said that there would be more than one sternly worded legal letter in the post. _To start with._

George nodded as he drew back, fiddling with a button on his shirt anxiously. “I know. I'm sorry I didn't say before, and for what I said earlier.” His face coloured slightly. “And for leaving the way I did. I just needed to-” He gestured helplessly. “Get away. Just for a minute and then, well, it was just easier to keep going.” He looked up towards the deck of their LA house in the near distance. “I was always coming home.”

Louis nodded, as did Harry, who still looked pale against the night surrounding them. His voice was hesitant when he spoke again. “George I-I just want you to-”

George shook his head vehemently, interjecting immediately. “Dad, you don't have to. I know none of that's true. None of it.”

Harry's eyes looked huge in his face. “I've never...I would never-”

George gave a small smile and another firm head shake. “Dad. Please. I _know._ They were just being vomo. Of course it's not true. I mean aside from anything else, it would mean you'd have to take your hands off Dad here for five seconds.” A flash of humour ran through George's eyes. One that, now they saw it, had been missing for far too long. “And I've yet to see that happen in all my young years, so like, yeah, clearly I know that's bollocks. Obviously.” The smile grew a bit bigger, grin cheeky. 'Like honestly, I already have permanent scars.”

Harry swallowed the urge to take him to task for language again. _Just this once._

Louis smiled in affirmation. “Your Dad, granted, is an incorrigible flirt at times, and some people, naming no names,” he said darkly, “some people, take that and run not just a mile with it, but a bloody marathon, because they like the sound of their own voices.”

That drew a soft laugh out of Harry. “Hi, yes 'Mr Calm Down, I'm Married' himself.”

Louis grinned. “I am married.”

Harry's gave a matching grin. “Same.”

The smile reached George's eyes as if to say, _see what I have to put up with_.

Louis placed both hands on his hips as he took a step back. “Okay so, that's all fine and well, and we'll sort things out like we said, but we are very much having a talk about not circumventing security willy-nilly once we get this mess untangled.”

George nodded, looking contrite. “I'm sorry for worrying you. I swear nothing bad happened. I mean no-one even approached me. It was busy, so like I just avoided it all and took the first cab I saw. And like I know that's not the point, blah-blah, but-”

Harry's brows drew together. “How, though? Brady couldn't get a trace on your card, or on Apple pay, or anything. We tried that first.”

George cleared his throat. “Um, I may have used Xara's black card code? I remembered it because we used it on tour a lot. I was surprised it still worked, to be honest.”

Louis' eyebrows rose. “Now you tell me.”

“Dad, please. It was mostly Slushies and pizza and shi-stuff we couldn't get on room service, that's all. Silly things.” George shook his head. “ And I understand that's not the point. I'll pay her back, and I won't do it again. Any of it.”

Louis nodded, just as Harry spoke. “Okay, good. And really, please don't. Ever again, George. If you're not ready to come to us about something, I understand, although I hope you feel you can tell us anything, but even so, don't ever risk your safety like that again. Whatever happens.”

George nodded in acquiescence, as Harry drew him in for another hug. “I won't. Promise.”

Louis didn't like to add that just living with the knowledge that he could was still pretty fucking terrifying as a parent, but that was a discussion for another day. Right now all he wanted to take his family home and wrap them in cotton wool for a while. Never mind a duvet day. This was going to be a duvet weekend.

It was a kick in the face of dawn by the time they gathered themselves and made their way up the beach and up the steps home, waves a quiet hush in the background. Some cereal and a malt drink later had things feeling closer to normal at least. After tucking George in (he indulged them, just this once, maybe because they all needed it), by mutual consent they sat for a while in the infinity pool on the top deck, staring out at the approaching sunrise.

They didn't speak, but Louis could feel Harry's heartbeat against his back as Harry’s arms wrapped around him drawing him near.

Steadier now. And in need of a little balm.

*

Louis took care in those hours of the new day to say his love slowly against his husband's skin.

Logically he knew that over a quarter century of this intimacy of living that they had shared spoke louder than all the naysayers ever could.

Realistically, he knew that some scars still ran deep, and that which caused them could cut at the sharpest of angles, in the most unexpected of ways.

With his mouth, his body, his hands, and his heart, he poured himself into showing Harry that he, then, now and always, saw him just as he was. The truth of him mapped out against his skin.

To show him that he knew it could never, ever be true of him.

That it never was.

*

Midday brought tired eyes, and mumbled expletives, as Louis pulled the front door open.

“Alright, give over! Bloody racket when a man's happily sleeping, fuck sake.”

_Dash._

Dash, who quite rightly looked, not a little embarrassed, gave a small, sheepish shrug. _“_ Let me in, then.”

Louis lifted his chin, assessing. “Do I know you?”

Dash's hands clutched his chest. “Ouch. A veritable hit, Uncle L. Truly.” He nodded, his smile not entirely reaching his eyes. “But not undeserved. Do I need to call my second?”

Louis rolled his eyes, but swung the door open nonetheless. _This kid._ “Get your arse inside then, Hamilton, before I have the bloody paps camped out on my doorstep.” His eyes darkened for a moment. “Unless your nice management friend has them out with their long lenses already, which I wouldn't bloody put past him.”

Dash held his hands up. “Just me, I promise. No-one knows I'm here. And I got Brady to pick me up, so no-one will know.”

Louis' eyebrows rose. _Cheeky._ “Oh you did, did ya?”

Dash's brows drew together and he looked pained. “Just let me speak to George, please. I'll go after, if he wants me to. I swear I will. I just need to talk to him.”

Louis wasn't done yet. “Oh, you know a George now, I see. Funny I could have sworn you'd forgotten him. Brown hair and eyes, about so high? That George? Mean anything to you, eh?”

Dash lifted his chin. “Look, last night I tried, I really did, but...well.” He shrugged helplessly.

Louis folded his arms. “Lad, I sympathise, I really do, especially when you're working with a bunch of dickheads, God knows, I've been there and done that, and got the bloody t-shirt ripped off my back long ago, but you're gonna have to do better than that.” He shook his head. “You really hurt him this time, y'know. D'ye realise you haven't seen him since his birthday? And that last week was the first time since you were little that he didn't see you for yours? I'll let him tell you the rest, if he wants, but the point is last night it all came to a head, then he slipped security and ran off and we-”

Dash's eyes widened as he stepped forward to grip Louis' arm. “He what?!” Dash looked around frantically. “Why didn't you tell me that first? Where is he? Is he alright?” Dash's eyes swam as he swiped a hand over his face. He suddenly looked exhausted. And painfully young. He shook his head in disbelief at Louis' quick nod. “Idiot. What was he thinking?”

Louis took pity on him and squeezed his shoulder. “Calm down. He's fine. Or he is now, more or less. But not before he almost gave me and Harry a bloody heart attack looking for him, so I'd thank the pair of you to not get up to anything even resembling mischief, for a good while at least anyhow.” He allowed a smile then. “Making me old before my time, you lot, I swear.”

A classic Dash smirk crept through, tempered as it was a little by the still shiny eyed gaze. “Well as a bunch of lads I know once said, you gotta live while you're young, Uncle L, you know how it is.” A cheeky wink then. “I've seen the pictures.”

Louis made as if to give him a clip round the ear and settled for ruffling his hair. “Less of your cheek, ta. Now get your backside into the kitchen and stick the kettle on. I'll go and get George up.” Louis headed towards the stairs. “I'm not making him see you, mind, that's up to him.”

Dash gave a bounce of bright, blonde hair as he shrugged off his no doubt one-of-a-kind teal shearling jacket without preamble, tossing it carelessly onto the coat hooks near the door. “On it.”

Louis shook his head as he made his way up the steps. _Kids these days, indeed._

*

“I'm sorry you did what now _?_ ” George was blinking like a comical owl at his best friend, mouth slightly open. Maybe his arms were still folded because yeah, but he caught himself leaning forward nonetheless because he was pretty sure Dash had just said something really, _really_ stupid. Or untrue. Or both.

Dash wiggled the fingers of his left hand from his seat at the other side of the table. “I said I quit. I'm done. Finis. Adios and all that jazz.”

Harry ran a hand through his hair, looking confused, as he sipped on his coffee. “Sorry, quit what exactly?”

Dash shrugged an impish shoulder. “The gig. The job. The game. I'm vamoose.”

George frowned, confuddled. “Famous? Well yeah, but-”

Dash let his forehead fall to the table, ever dramatic. “No. As in vanish. Disappear. A la Greta Garbo. Film history, hello? Nevermind.” He looked up again. “I mean, I _quit._ Everything. The job, the travelling, the photo shoots and whatever. All of it. I'm done.” He punctuated each word with a tap on the table in front of him and grabbed a slice of toast. “I. Quit.”

George placed both of his hands on the table, brow furrowed as he tried to take the import of those words in. “Dash, you can't just...quit your career.”

“Um.” Dash gestured with the toast, his mouth full. “That's funny, because I think I just did. So.”

George looked at Louis, who gave his own shrug as if to say _damned if I know_. George shook his head again. “But you...it's-”

Dash took a sip of his tea, delicately. “Yes, yes I know. It's not going to be the same as before, ever, and some people will always look at me differently now, and even more people will be dickheads about it all, because that's what people do? Yeah I know.” He gave another shrug. “I've already had this exact lecture from Mum and Dad. Well, not lecture, more concerned parenting,” he acquiesced with a short nod. “But I'll tell you exactly what I told them. Because really it's very bloody simple and my statement, which is going out at five by the way, so maybe alert your people, because they do happen to know we're friends and I'm sure it'll all be twenty questions for five minutes, but anyway, it says pretty much the same thing. I don't like it anymore and I want to come home.”

Louis tilted his head, brow furrowed. “They've let you out of your contract? Really?”

Dash scoffed. “No, as if. Seriously, if it was up to them I'd be wearing that onesie til I was eighty.” He grinned. “Okay so, good stuff, enquiring minds can be told that the film was the last part of my current contract because the parentals had you guys' legal team look it over way back when I started remember, so I only signed on the proviso, like that word, proviso, that they could review the contract requirements each season, because of my age and everything. Which was really great forward thinking so thanks, by the way.”

Louis eyebrows rose, but he only nodded.

Dash took another bite of toast, crumbs spraying as he gesticulated. “Anyways, the studio negotiated on their end so it was getting me to sign on for two at a time, and I said I would if it could be annual after signing on for the first two seasons. So that was the original deal. Then the movie was an additional option thing I signed separately. So the promo for that when I was away all summer was like my last real obligation with them. Three seasons and the film. They've been throwing everything but the kitchen sink at me for the last three months trying to get me to sign on again. And I mean, I guess technically maybe they could make me go to the Globes for promo reasons, or something, if there's other nominations? I don't know yet, but whatever. They can't actually make me work anymore if I don't want to. And I don't want.” That shoulder shrug again. “I'm done.”

George tilted his head, eyebrows all but at his hairline “I...you mean with this? Do you want to work on something else then?”

Dash took another sip of tea. “No. I mean I'm done with acting. I've had fun, but all that hanging around all day waiting for stuff to happen? Not for me.”

George's mouth hung open before he gathered the words to speak. “Dash. You can't just, can't-” He shook his head and tried again. “ _Time_ magazine called you a prodigy. Said you'd probably win the Best Actor Oscar before you're twenty. Didn't DiCaprio say he wanted to work with you? You can't just-”

Dash shook his head in exasperation. “Yeah well my best friend called me a bellend one time and that was probably a more accurate review. And also hi, I don't want to be an actor. I've been one and now I'm not anymore.”

George gestured vaguely with his hand. “But...your talent.”

Dash's mouth kicked up at the corner. “Tell them I fell and broke it.”

George looked down at his own tea, silently musing. Louis and Harry shared a glance and with a quiet mutual nod headed out to stand on the deck and get some air with their caffeine, watching the waves ebb and flow in the distance.

*

Dash set his own cup down, fingers outstretched across the table. He didn't touch, but just laid them there, waiting.

George glanced at his fingers and looked up, voice unsure. “And you're...you're not doing this because of us fighting, or anything stupid like that? 'Cause I support you whatever, of course I do, I'd never wan-”

Dash gave a patented flick of his hair. “George, please. Have you met me? I am inherently selfish and totally not about to do anything that first and foremost doesn't make me feel good. Much as I love you. I'm doing this for me. It's just...time.”

George tilted his head, staring at Dash's face, reality finally sinking in. “Oh my God, there's gonna be so many angry fans.” His eyes widened. “People will cry.”

Dash grinned, fingers wiggling, as he gestured with his teacup. “Always leave them wanting more, dahling.”

George took another sip of his own tea. “So, what are you gonna do instead then?”

Dash tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Go back to school, same as my mates, and figure out what I really want in life.”

George nodded slowly. “And the show?”

Dash brow furrowed slightly. “Well the film served as a really good resolution to Toby's arc anyway and allowed for Sarah's daughter to take over as the Goblin Queen, so like, it's fine. Anyway we keep talking about me, what the fuck happened to you? What happened last night? Aside from my arse not making an appearance. I'm sure that was missed, granted, but run away? Really?”

George cleared his throat, cheeks colouring slightly. “Hey, room for your ego over there? It wasn't just about you. I was mad at you, yeah, but it was just..everything.”

Dash lifted his chin a little. “Spill, Styles-Tomlinson.”

George sighed. “It's just been...different for a while. Obviously, with you not there, but I'm used to that now.” He ignored Dash's theatrically murmured _ouch_ with a roll of his eyes. “But like this year, with Xara gone too. It was..a lot. Short version is J-Crew and his so called mates, wanted some of their usual 'favours' and then they started in on Conor too and I-”

Dash's eyes narrowed. “Conor?”

George shook his head. “He's fine. But it all took a bit, and they said a bunch of other stuff about Dad, and I was just...stuck for a while.” He sighed again. “I'll show you some of the messages later.”

Dash inclined his head at the doors to the deck. “Have you told them?”

George nodded. “Yeah, last night. They're gonna do their thing.”

Dash tapped a fingernail against his cup. “And we'll do ours.”

George gave another nod. “Yeah.” He coughed and studied his nails. “So, uh, what does Ricky think of all this quitting business?”

Dash flashed a toothy grin. “Oh, he's fired.”

George flicked a glance up. “For realsies?”

Dash nodded a smile forming. “For realsies. He was, and still is, a wanker.” Dash sighed. “I never did like him after the first few months when I started to realise two thirds of my workload was him signing off on shit before I even saw it. I mean some of the things he got me were great, honestly, but I would have liked the choice you know?” He shrugged. “But by that point I had a contract of sorts with him to see out too, and it was just easier to let it go sometimes...”

George nodded, face flooded with relief. “Thank, fuck.” He shook his head. “I mean, sorry that you had to go through shit and everything, but-” He blew out a breath. “Sorry, sorry, it's just...I never.” George stopped, and tried again. “He just always made me feel like I was being a nuisance, you know? Like he acted like he couldn't understand why you were my friend. When you had to change your number after some rando got hold of it again last month, and they did that vetting thing? He wouldn't give me your new number, even though I was on the list, and I started to think...well, I thought that yo-”

“He fucking what?!” Dash's eyes looked murderous. _“Wanker._ I swear to God. I bloody told him to make sure you guys always had my up-to-date private line. I'm shit at remembering numbers, you know that. I wondered why you got so quiet after your birthday.” He swiped a hand through his hair. “And I had to change it a lot in the last few weeks. Or he claimed that I did. Fucker.”

George gnawed his lip as he set his empty cup down, eyes flicking to the deck again. “Yeah, definitely a dick. And I'm happy you're away from that, but well, why are you really doing this now? Like why not finish out awards season?” He smiled a little. “Get all the goodie bags.”

When Dash extended his fingers this time they found their connection in George's. “Because last night you were all of ten minutes away and it might as well have been ten million. I'm not gonna lie and say some of it wasn't fun. Even some of last night. But...none of it's real? It stopped feeling real a while ago. It just took me a while to figure out how to get home.”

George could barely suppress the grin. “In the most dramatic way possible, being you.”

Dash grinned. “Well in my defence, there was a labyrinth, so...”

George rolled his eyes, laughter bubbling up as he shoved Dash's hand away. “Well, the other way leads straight to the castle. Wouldn't want that.”

They both laughed, in a way that spoke of years of not having to say a word many times over, as weeks and months of angst fell away, the scales tipping once more into balance.

Dash shook his head as Harry and Louis came back inside, looking cautiously between the pair. George nodded minutely.

Dash sobered a little. “George, all of you. “He glanced up at the couple who'd been all but practically his second set of parents for almost a decade. “I'm serious. And I know that's not something you often hear from me, but..I just want to come home.”

_I miss you. I miss my life._

George smiled after a beat passed. “You are home, dickweed.”

Louis felt like it was half a lifetime ago when they were the ones on the precipice of change after being on the road for so long. Harry's eyes told him that he was thinking the same thing. That not seeing your family, or sleeping in the same bed every night, the friendships that endure, and those that don't, changes you, grows you old before your time, and that the only way to find your way forward, because there is no going back, is to change it all again, but on your terms.

_Well, then._

Louis held out his empty cup to Dash. “Pick your poison, kid. Stacking or emptying. And after, well you know where the kettle is.”

Dash made an attempt at a huff, but could hardly hide his grin as he hopped up. “Well, some things never change. 'In my day we washed cups by hand,' he mimicked in a flawless take on Louis' accent. “Blah blah blah. Back in Donny, we walked six miles in the rain. Both ways.”

Harry grinned, beaming. “Try living above a pub. We had plastic cups. In the summers anyhow. Less washing up though, because the bar had a dishwasher. And free crisps, at that.” He grinned. “Well, Gemma and I thought they were free, so same thing.”

Louis gave good natured eye roll as he shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, well we drank right from the tap, to be honest. And wouldn't that be ever better in pub n'all?” Louis's smile matched Harry's for beaming. “Here, remember that time in Amsterdam when we went to that place?”

George gave a half sigh that became a laugh as he stood up to help Dash at the sink. “We've heard this story. All of it.”

Louis tilted his head as he picked up his phone. “You go on thinking that. Anyways, Dash, I'm calling your Mam and Dad. You're under house arrest for the weekend. I'm calling in pizza and supplies later. This is a Styles-Tomlinson lockdown.”

Harry watched the boys scrabble over the dishes and tea making, as Louis placed the call, sending a brief couple of emails to their publicist himself to ward off the worst of the vultures who were bound to try and roost, sooner or later.

Dash was gesturing wildly with the tea towel. “You know what the worst thing is? I'm so sick of having my hair blond _all the time._  The contract wouldn't let me even touch a strand of it. Total blam.”

George pursed his lips, eyebrows raised. “Hmm. I see how it is really.” He raised a hand with a couple of choppy slices through the air. “It's your hair and, then me is it?”

Dash threw the tea towel at him. “Please, we've talked about this. You're obviously first in my life _just_ after my hair. Live with it.”

If a scuffle involving soap suds, a much abused tea towel, and toast crusts started after that then so be it. The instigators knew the rules.

Harry smiled as he watched them quietly.

_Thank fuck for that._

His smile grew as he found Louis' fingers and pulled him softly behind him towards the stairs. “Let's leave them be for a while,” he mouthed.

Louis was nodding into the phone as he followed him. “Yeah, I know it's crazy, innit. Kids, eh? Yeah, yeah, of course. No, he explained. Yeah, I understand. I know how it is. I'll have him call you later. Yeah, I'll drop him home myself after. He has some of his clothes and stuff here still anyhow, yeah, yeah. Alright, Tali, say hey to Robbie for us, alright, talk to you later, yeah bye.”

He gave a nod to Harry's raised eyebrows as they reached their bedroom. Smiled softly when Harry's lips pressed lightly to his forehead. He drew back casting a keen eye over his spouse as he tossed his phone onto the dresser. “All sorted.” He laced his hands around Harry's waist, musing. “So, husband of mine, dragging me up here all quiet like, to have your nefarious way with me, are ya?” He gave an eyebrow wiggle. “Last night not enough for you, no?”

Harry snorted inelegantly and then coughed as he shook his head. “Fuck, no.” He smoothed a thumb over Louis' cheek. “I mean, yeah, it was great, obvs, thanks and all that.” He cricked his neck slightly. “Can still feel it in my back actually, but I dunno about you, but I'm still fucked from running around ragged last night. Too much adrenaline.” He pressed another kiss to Louis' forehead. “I just want a few hours, sleep and a nice cuddle.” A wry head shake then. “My recovery time isn't what it used to be, soz.”

Louis just smirked at that and let his head drop to Harry's shoulder. “Thank God, because I'm bloody knackered meself. Whose idea was it to have a kid? Fucking exhausting business, I tell ya. We need to rethink that one.”

Harry let him rumble on as he steered him towards the bed, knowing full well, as Louis himself did, that Louis had been even more broody than he had when the time came round all those years ago, and that was saying something. Neither of them would change a thing about their little family. Well _, almost_ anything _._

His gaze fell to his arm and he felt a little pang, as he often did when they hit different milestones, or had days like these. He liked to believe she was shining in her own way somewhere. _Stardust._

He rolled his shoulders and tugged Louis down with him until they were sprawled in a messy heap, clinging every which where. He let it settle, deep in his bones. _Comfy._ He sighed happily. For now, at least, their boy was home and safe, and as happy as it was in their power to have him be.

Maybe navigating life with an ever evolving teenager who sometimes needed desperately to still be a kid, was challenging. It was certainly keeping them on their toes. They'd already put in a request to the school, and had a meeting scheduled for when they got back to London. There was a still a lot to iron out to try and weed out the problems that had been allowed to take root for a while. But, for now, he wasn't alone. _Their George_. He hoped he never was for long.

Watching he and Dash earlier was like seeing those two small and bright five and six year olds spark off one another long ago. He hoped they always had each other in their lives. Whatever happened. The kids, the four of them, were so special, and he believed they'd always be there for each other somehow; through changes, fights, fallouts, or otherwise. They'd find a way. _Like us five did, in the end._ They'd always come back round, no matter where life takes them.

Harry knew George couldn't love Conor and Xara more than if they were actual siblings, and even without any blood connection, they were, to him, his cousins. He'd never known a time without them. But Dash? The outsider who'd somehow made himself a central part of their lives until no-one could remember a time before him either?

That first day, with neon hair and new shoes, they'd chosen each other.

Dash is the friend he chose.

Harry hoped he always would.

*

In the end Dash stayed for just over a week.

And he wore his hair a different colour every day.

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Reblog on Tumblr](http://andyouknowitis.tumblr.com/post/121307270022/things-there-might-be-pictures-of)
> 
> Well, I'm back. 
> 
> *  
> In case you were wondering what Xara and Conor were saying about Dash in their little French conversation:
> 
> _Xara: "Shit, he's going to get a big head if he continues like this."_
> 
> _Conor: "No he won't."_
> 
> _Xara: "You're right, he already has a big head."_
> 
> [Thanks to Addy for augmenting my woefully sub par GCSE French.](https://freetheankles.tumblr.com/)
> 
> *
> 
> Comments, kudos, concrit & gifts related to llamas are welcome ;)


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